


smoke and mint

by slightlyworriedhuman



Category: The OA (TV)
Genre: Drugs, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Not Season 2 Compliant, Shotgunning, Weed, cooking shows while high are great, this is literally just an excuse to write them being happy becahse the show did not give me that, you're supposed to get high not make out fools
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 18:45:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18394196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlyworriedhuman/pseuds/slightlyworriedhuman
Summary: It surprises Jesse when French asks one day, quietly, “Can I come get high with you?”Or, French learns what shotgunning is the fun way, and Jesse learns that French is a good kisser.





	smoke and mint

**Author's Note:**

> is this self-indulgent? yes. was i high writing this? also yes. will i write more like this? absolutely. enjoy the classic shotgunning fic we all need.

Jesse knows that French had a drug problem. 

Who was he to judge? They had met through Steve’s dealing, after all; Jesse had sat on the windowsill for most of Steve’s interactions with French, silently following his spiral into addiction. From what he knew, though, French had stopped buying after the angel’s death. Jesse had noticed for a couple weeks that when French showed up in math in the mornings, he looked tired and almost sickly; when he had walked French home, French had told him quietly that he felt he owed it to his siblings to set a better example. ( _ “God knows I haven’t been the best of one, hanging out with a stranger at midnight,” _ he’d said. Jesse had understood that it wasn’t a jab at the angel nor the others, just an observation of someone trying to be the idol others made him to be. It was respectable.)

He had been walking home with French for a while at this point; Buck normally stayed after for choir practice, and Steve and Angie had been more often than not going around town after school. No, it was normally just the two of them, walking up Crestwood and chatting idly. (Sometimes they didn’t speak at all; the presence of the others’ company was enough at times, enough to lift the feeling of loss that the angel’s passing had left.) Occasionally, French would invite Jesse in, would let him stay for dinner or just to pass time together. It was nice. 

It surprises Jesse when French asks one day, quietly, “Can I come get high with you?” 

He turns to look at his friend, eyebrows raising slightly. French has slowed down, eyes focused on the road before him, hands curled around the straps of the bag slung over his shoulders. He looks almost… embarrassed, like he shouldn’t be asking. Jesse doesn’t really understand why; he’s invited French over before, so there’s no reason why French should seem so cautious about it.

“Yeah, dude,” he says, shooting a small smile at his friend. French’s head raises slightly, and he looks at Jesse. He’s quick to realize that embarrassment isn’t the look that curves the edges of his face like clay; it’s nervousness, almost, like he wasn’t sure he should even ask. Jesse can’t help but think it’s a bit sweet. “Of course. Ali isn’t home today, if you want to do it now?” French starts at that, jerking his eyebrows up in surprise.

“Now? I thought like… tomorrow or this weekend.” Definitely nervousness on his face; for the life of him, Jesse can’t understand. He shrugs.

“I mean, we can, but… I have nothing going on today. Unless you need to help your brothers,” he adds on, mulling it over. 

“What? N-No, I, ...uh.” French clears his throat. “No, today’s fine. Just let me drop my stuff off at my place first and tell Carlos he’s in charge of dinner tonight.” 

Jesse smiles again at him, at the way the anxiety on French’s face eases when he does. “Okay."

—

“I’ve never actually smoked anything before.” 

The words tumble out in a rush; it distracts Jesse from where he’s packing a small bowl of pot, prompting him to look up. Anxiety is on French’s face again as he sits beside him on the couch, and suddenly, Jesse understands. He huffs out a small laugh, turns back to the bong, nudging French gently with his elbow. “Dude, don’t worry. Are you just worried it’s gonna hurt or something?”

He can feel French shrug beside him. “Kinda. I’ve, uh… I mean. I tried once. At a party.” He coughs self-consciously. “It didn’t really… work out.”

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno. It, uh… burned my throat, I guess? I don’t know, I think I did it wrong or something.”

“Did anyone tell you how to do it?” Jesse asks, finishing up his work and turning to French curiously. French shakes his head, sheepish. With another small laugh, Jesse leans over and nudges French with his shoulder, prompting him to grin slightly back. “Then it’s not your fault, man. Don’t worry. I’ll do it first, alright?”

“Alright.” French’s eyes follow Jesse as he leans back slightly, and Jesse makes sure that French sees his soft smile before he turns to light the bowl. With a first failed flick of the lighter and a grumble, Jesse gets the lighter going and raises the bong to his face, inhaling slowly. It tastes slightly bitter, but he keeps it in his lungs for just a moment before exhaling, watching the smoke stream out over the top of the glass pipe. Lowering the glass to rest on his thigh, he blows out the rest of his breath before turning to French. Brown eyes watch him with surprising intensity behind thick lenses, as if taking notes, and Jesse can’t help but smile at the sight. 

“You wanna try?” he asks, a thin curl of residual smoke escaping as he speaks. It’s surprising how easy French is to read now that Jesse’s gotten to know him; his shoulders tense slightly, and Jesse knows he’s about to lie and say yes before the words even leave his mouth. “Wait, actually…” French’s mouth, already open to speak, closes with a muted click of his teeth. Jesse pauses, tapping the glass with his short nails before speaking. “Do you wanna try something that’ll make it easier?” 

“What do you mean?” French’s head tilts slightly, confusion obvious. It’s Jesse’s turn to feel slightly sheepish now, but he hopes it doesn’t show. 

“You could shotgun off of me.” He’s struck with the sudden need to busy his hands, and he turns back to the pipe, feeling around for his lighter on the couch. 

“Okay.” Jesse turns back in time to see French nod. Oh. He’s about to ask if French knows what shotgunning is, but French grins at him, short and quick and still a tiny bit nervous, and the thought leaves his mind as soon as a smile finds its way into his own face. Turning back again to the bong, he flicks his lighter and pauses before lowering the small flame to the bowl.

“Scoot closer, ‘kay?” He really doesn’t want to have to lean too far and accidentally drop anything. The couch dips beside him as he inhales the smoke again, filling his lungs with bitter air; he’s quick to set down the lighter and tuck the bottom of the bong between his knees. Smoke still swirling in his mouth, he turns to French. The other is sitting expectantly, hands fidgeting on his lap, leg almost pressing against Jesse’s. He wants to tell French to relax, but that would let the smoke go, so he decided to just put his hand on French’s shoulder, pulling him close. With his free hand raising to cradle French’s jaw, he thumbs the edge of French’s lower lip enough to open it before leaning forward, letting his lips brush French’s.

His own eyes are half-closed, but he can see French’s eyes widen past the escaping smoke as Jesse exhales into French’s mouth, the other’s eyebrows raising in surprise. He realizes too late how much this feels like a kiss, but he doesn’t want to waste smoke, so he simply holds himself there until the smoke is gone. Finally pulling back, he reminds French gently, “Inhale, dude.” Still watching him with wide eyes, French complies, the smoke curling from his mouth disappearing and reappearing a few seconds later.

“...That’s what shotgunning is?” Jesse can feel his own face heating up, but he grins again at French’s slightly bemused shock. 

“Yeah, man. Did you actually get a hit?” It takes a moment, but French finally clears his throat, face darkening in a blush. 

“Uh… not really.” Jesse sees his eyes wander to the glass pipe sandwiched between his thighs, and he’s about to offer it to French when his friend clears his throat again. “Can we try that again?” 

Oh.

Jesse’s nod is a bit too enthusiastic, and his hair flops in front of his face, hiding how red he can feel his face getting. “Yeah, here, lemme just—get closer this time, okay? We’ll lose less smoke.”

“Oh—okay,” French stammers. This time, when he scoots over, his leg really is pressed against Jesse’s, and rather than move his leg so he can better access the mouth of the pipe, Jesse opts to just flash another wide grin from behind the fair falling across his face and lean over the bong, sucking in just a bit too quickly and almost scalding his throat. Still, though, he’s quick to recover, straightening up and placing the lighter on his thigh. When he turns back to French and places a hand on his jaw, he’s quick to notice the heat of French’s cheek beneath his finger, how his eyes are focused on Jesse’s lips. Perhaps a bit too eagerly, he leans into French, placing his lips firmly on the other’s; this time, instead of Jesse having to guide him to open his mouth, French seems to meet him just as eagerly, inhaling through the barest of gaps left between them. Jesse exhales slowly, perhaps a bit more slowly than would normally be comfortable for him, but he can taste the spearmint gum French spit out when they got home and he really,  _ really  _ likes the feel of French’s lips pressing against his. Finally, reluctantly, he pulls away; French doesn’t lean away fully, eyes still focusing on Jesse, skin even hotter beneath Jesse’s hand. A sudden wave of butterflies rises in Jesse’s chest, and he can’t help but grin toothily at French before lowering his hand. He knows it hasn’t been long enough for the weed to kick in yet, but he certainly feels some kind of high, looking at French like this, faces still so close. French smiles back, and the nervousness is finally gone and replaced by a goofy happiness, and  _ oh,  _ Jesse just  _ knows _ he wants to repeat that experience.

“Do you wanna…” French nods eagerly as Jesse trails off, and he feels like he can’t light the bowl again fast enough. He’s surprised when French’s hand slides beneath his hair, but doesn’t try to shake it off, lifting both hands to cup French’s jaw firmly. French still tastes like spearmint gum, and Jesse thinks that when the flavour is pushed into his mouth with French’s tongue, he’s going to buy enough of it that he’ll never forget the flavour. He moves his lips against French’s, curling smoke dissipating from the corners of their mouths as they push together. It’s a happy thought that this is more than shotgunning now; still, though, he forces himself to pull back once all the smoke is gone from his lungs.

“Hold on, hold on, I just—” He can’t block a soft laugh of glee from bubbling when French smiles widely at him, hand still on the back of his neck. “Before we get too high, dude, before we get too high. You sure you’re… good with this?” he asks, raising his eyebrows and gesturing between the two of them, biting his lip gently to fight back the grin fighting it's way onto his face at the flush on French’s face. 

“I—Yeah, dude, of  _ course _ ,” French laughs softly, and his eyes crinkle in a way that makes Jesse feel like he’s already in the clouds. “Are you?”

“What? Yeah, totally,” Jesse exclaims, probably a bit more excited than needed. French laughs, honest to god  _ laughs _ in a way that Jesse has never heard, and he nods towards the bong, loosening his hold on the back of Jesse’s neck and sliding his hand to his shoulder. He doesn’t hesitate to light the bowl again, raising his head quickly and rushing to meet French’s lips again. A thought strokes him, a silly reminder in his head that they’re still supposed to be getting high, and he holds French’s chin in place until he’s fully exhaled all the smoke into French’s mouth. Once he feels his own smoke rushing back at him, he lets go of French, allowing his mouth to move against his own again. It’s new for Jesse, honestly, but he’s more than eager and French seems more than willing to show him the ropes. He feels himself all but melt against French when French’s fingers catch on his hair and press against his jaw, and all he can do it raise his hands to grip French’s shoulders, lighter still in one hand. 

They develop a nice rhythm of pulling apart just long enough for Jesse to light the bowl again, the both of them giggling the entire time; it’s a small while before French hesitantly pulls back and asks, “Can I try?” Jesse nods, handing him the lighter. It seems as though French is steeling himself as he looks at the bong still held between Jesse’s knees; gently, Jesse takes the lighter back from French and says, “Here, you just inhale when I tell you too, okay? I’ll light it.” French nods and licks his lips slightly before pulling off his glasses and placing his mouth over the opening of the glass pipe; once the weed is smoking in the pipe, Jesse taps him on the shoulder with a soft murmur of “Go,” and French breaths in the smoke, nose wrinkling slightly. When he finally pulls back and looks as Jesse, Jesse’s quick to pull him back into a kiss. The mint is stronger like this, and he swears he could swoon when French has to pull back to laugh, residual smoke shooting from his nostrils.

“Sorry, dude, I just—” He laughs again. “It tickled my throat, I didn’t want to cough in your mouth.” A snicker rises in Jesse’s throat, and he finds out a moment later that it’s actually quite hard to kiss someone properly when you’re both grinning like fools.

—

Somewhere along the line, Jesse announces that French has had more than enough for a first timer, and French replies that he’ll only stop if Jesse doesn’t, and well, that’s pretty easy to agree to, isn’t it? By the time Jesse’s taken the last hit he can from the bong, French has figured out the remote to Jesse’s TV and found a random cooking show to play. As soon as Jesse sets the bong down on the table beside French’s glasses, French pulls him in for a quick kiss before scooting away. Toeing off his shoes, he kicks his legs up onto the couch and leans forward to grab Jesse’s hands, pulling him to lay against him. Laughing, Jesse arranges himself so his head is on French’s chest and plucks the glasses from the table, handing them to French. The lens can’t hide the redness from the smoke or the blown pupils of his eyes, but at least he can see now, Jesse thinks. As the show starts with a dramatic voice-over, French bends down to press his lips against Jesse’s hair; with a slight laugh and a dopey grin, Jesse tilts his head back so he can kiss French at an awkward, perfect angle. Finally, though, he insists that if French put on the show, they’re going to watch it, and soon enough French is staring at a chef’s explanation of how he pearls cranberry sauce, one hand winding through Jesse’s hair. Jesse’s more than content to lay against French’s chest, tracing lines on the palm he holds with a gentle touch, leaning into the hand that plays with his hair. Blunt nails scrape against his scalp, and he sighs happily, finally raising his attention to the TV when French remarks in awe that he wants to make food like that. 

A buzzing sounds from the table, and he realizes a moment later it’s his phone, vibrating upon the table. With a groan, he mumbles, “Gimme a moment, I gotta get that,” and sits up. French’s hands fall, and he hears him grumble when Jesse leans away from him to grab the phone. As soon as he has the phone in hand, he leans back against French, relaxing into the feeling of French’s fingers twisting into his hair again. The phone buzzes again with another notification, and Jesse taps on it when he sees Steve’s contact name on the alert.

_ <8:07> HEY R U BUSY _

_ <8:08> ANGIE SAYS MOVIE NIGHT _

“Who is it?” French asks, leaning forward and resting his chin on top of Jesse’s head. “Oh. No. He can go away.” Jesse laughs at the petulance in French’s voice at the knowledge that Steve wants Jesse’s attention, and he’s quick to switch the app to the camera. 

“Here, here—” Jesse pushes French’s chin up with one hand, tilting his head back and raising the camera slightly. French catches on quickly, and laughs delightedly. “Ok, ready?” French’s yes is in the form of him leaning down to kiss Jesse at an odd side angle again, and Jesse helplessly giggles into the kiss when he hits the camera button. He quickly checks to make sure the picture is actually taken before setting the phone down and placing his hands on French’s cheeks, pulling him close for a few seconds longer before the odd position strains his neck. It’s worth it for the taste of faded mint and weed, for the feeling of French snickering into his mouth before he finally pulls away and drops his head back down, letting French lean back against the couch cushions and return to messing with his hair.

“Tell him to leave us alone,” French laughs, and Jesse swats him lightly on the arm with a grin before typing the caption ‘ _ maybe next time lol _ ’ and hitting send. It feels like mere moments pass before his phone begins buzzing incessantly, lots of capitalized nonsense from Steve that he can’t be bothered to read.

He sets down the phone and relaxes against French, letting the voice of the chefs on TV wash over him. French is warm, and the hands playing with his hair are gentle; he makes sure that when he twists against French to place his lips against his jawline, it’s just as warm and sweet as him.

**Author's Note:**

> Steve and Angie absolutely poppin' bottles when Jesse sends that snap.  
> Come find me on tumblr @jesse-mills to chat.


End file.
